


Don't Kill My Vibe

by Robomantic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Beta Derek Hale, Body Worship, Bottom Derek Hale, Dancing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, OOC Derek (whilst under the spell), Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Spells & Enchantments, Top Stiles Stilinski, Underage Drinking, Underwear Kink, elements of dub con (sex whilst under a spell)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robomantic/pseuds/Robomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's has a run in with a prankster witch who decides to remove the proverbial stick from his ass via spell.</p><p>Now Derek is in the best mood he's ever been in and he has no idea why. He's hugging people and sliding around the floor in his socks and getting high with the pack and... finally showing Stiles his true feelings for him (at a party Derek decided to throw, no less). </p><p>When Derek finds out the truth about the spell he's under, he has to choose between being happy and carefree or being himself, issues and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Kill My Vibe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Teen Wolf Big Bang](www.teenwolf-bb.livejournal.com) featuring art by Cybel that you should definitely check out over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1069370). 
> 
> Just a warning, toward the end there is a description of Derek having what could be seen as a panic attack, so if that's a trigger please read cautiously.

[](http://s35.photobucket.com/user/throwme2thedogs/media/VibeBanner_zps32fc6f45.png.html)  


Derek did not consider himself the supernatural sheriff of Beacon Hills, despite what Stiles may have said (on more than one occasion). He just liked to keep things in check before they got out of control and the pack had a full-scale issue on their hands. He knew that he should relax a little and trust Scott to take care of things, but as relieved as he was to be a beta again (honestly, he was), he still had trouble letting go of control.

Scott had given Derek the position of second in command rather easily, probably because he was surprised at how willing Derek had been to join his pack and combine forces. Apparently, Scott didn't remember that Derek had wanted them to be a unified force from the get-go. Derek was many things, but an omega he was not, and he'd never really been power hungry. Becoming the Alpha had been more about survival than anything else. Once he got over his initial surprise, it didn't take much for Scott to see the wisdom (with a little coaxing from Stiles and Isaac) in having a born werewolf and former Alpha as his second in command.

Derek had settled into his new position quite comfortably, but recently there had been an increasing number of sketchy things happening in Beacon Hills that had him on high alert. Of course, no one else in the pack was taking the issue seriously, due to the fact that every magical happening so far had been completely ridiculous and harmless. 

It started with the literal stampede of hamsters down the halls of Beacon Hills High School. Animal Control had never been so confused by a call in its life, Derek was sure of that. Before they managed to gather up the majority of the hamsters, Stiles had caught two of the little fluff balls and set them up in a cage in Derek's living room because he thought the pack needed “mascots” and Derek apparently had NO control over what or who came in and out of his loft. 

Then came the grocery store turning into an impromptu bubble party; foam pouring out of nowhere and the lights suddenly flashing in several different colors. Cora had come back from the store, sans groceries, with a huge grin on her face and bubbles behind her ears to tell Derek about that one. 

Things pretty much continued on in that fashion. The authorities were convinced it was a series of highly elaborate and well planned pranks, but Derek could smell magic all over it, sometimes literally, and he wasn’t going to let it go. Just because it was _fun_ and _harmless_ didn’t mean it was okay. In Derek’s experience, magic almost always lead to very bad things. Maybe he was a little biased on the magic front after what had happened with Jennifer (or Julia?), but it wasn't as if he didn't have a damn good reason.  
“Derek! Dude, chill. It’s probably nothing. I mean, a couple harmless magical pranks aren’t worth getting all freaked out over, “Stiles said, barely looking up from his laptop. Scott was perched on the arm of the couch next to him leaning over his shoulder to stare at the screen and nodding absently. Derek was pretty sure he had barely heard a single word that had been said. Derek huffed out an annoyed breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and did his best to glare a hole straight through Stiles’s laptop. 

“They’re not even escalating, Derek. What if you go out and intimidate them and it pushes them to do something worse?” Isaac asked. He at least had the decency to look at Derek when he spoke to him, but he was still a damn traitor for siding with Stiles. 

The pack was currently sprawled out across Derek's loft because, true Alpha or not, Melissa McCall had been very clear that Scott wasn't going to be using her home for their pack meetings. Despite his claws and fangs and well-honed glaring skills, Derek would never be able to put the fear of god into someone the way a pissed off mom could. They'd all experienced that the first (and last) time they tried to have a pack meeting at Scott's house and accidentally ended up putting claw marks in the living room wall.

“Let it go, Derek,” Lydia added. Apparently she had only come to the meeting just long enough to make Derek’s life a little more difficult before she went on to her nail appointment. 

“Weren’t you leaving?” Derek snapped at her. Lydia gave him a sharp glare that Derek returned with as much venom as he could muster. It was moments like this that had Stiles calling him “He-Lydia” and Lydia “She-Derek”. Neither of them was pleased with the nicknames, but Stiles was pretty exceptional at not giving a shit about what pleased other people. 

“Look, you may not see the danger here, but I do. I’ve got a lead on where the spells are coming from, and I want to check it out,” Derek said. What he didn't tell them was that he’d traced the spells back to the local head shop. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to help if he wanted them to take the threat seriously. Scott gave him a dismissive nod of approval, luckily too engaged in whatever Stiles was showing him on the computer to argue Derek down. The rest of the pack barely gave him a wave goodbye as he stormed out the door to the Toyota. 

Admittedly, Derek was not in the best of moods when he arrived at the little shop. It certainly didn’t help that the place reeked of the incense that was playing hell with Derek’s amped up werewolf senses. Needless to say, he was a little bit on the edgy side when the girl behind the counter greeted him.  
“Ooh, hey! You’re a werewolf! Finally! I’ve been dying to meet one of you guys!” She chirped, leaning forward with her elbows on the glass counter (despite the sign telling patrons _not_ to do that very thing). She was a tiny little thing with blonde dreads pulled up in a ponytail and thick horn plugs through her earlobes. 

“How do you know what I am?” Derek growled. The girl just snickered and tilted her head at him. 

“Whoa there, what crawled up your root chakra and died?” she asked. Derek flashed his eyes at her, but she was not impressed. 

“You’re the one that’s been doing the spells,” Derek accused. The girl’s grin didn’t falter.

“Yeah! Did you like ‘em?” 

“You need to stop. You quit with the spells and we won’t have a problem,” Derek stated. Finally her grin dropped.

“Whoa there buddy! Who died and made you sheriff of the supernatural?” she huffed. Derek had to wonder when the hell that had become a commonly used term. 

“I represent the Beacon Hills pack. We have a right to defend our territory,” Derek explained.

“From what? I’m not a threat to your territory. A threat to your policy of making sure everything is a HUGE bummer, maybe…” she said trailing off and absently fiddling with a bead on the end of one of her dreads. Jesus, was no one going to take him seriously? 

“This is the only warning I’m giving you,” Derek said. At that, the girl snapped to attention and leveled Derek with a fierce look. He wasn’t quite startled enough to drop his glare, but it was a near thing.

“Or what, wolf boy? You know what? Maybe you’re the one that needs to be kept in check. You want to be the fun police? Fine. That just makes me the bummer police,” she said, walking around the front of a glass cabinet filled with various pipes and bongs. Derek growled and half shifted, hoping she'd back off. He had a bad feeling Isaac was about to be proven right on his whole “being intimidating will only make things worse” theory. 

The girl cracked her knuckles and took a deep breath and then…

“Chill. The fuck. OUT!” she yelled. There was a short strong breeze that seemed to come from nowhere, making all the hairs on Derek's arms stand up... then there was nothing. 

Derek stood there stunned for a moment and then started laughing; a genuine laugh that might have actually made his abs ache if he were human... and not so invested in his grueling ab regimen.

“You’re- You’re kidding? Chill the fuck out? What was that?” Derek asked, wiping tears from his eyes. The girl's face relaxed into a grin. 

“You know what, you’re totally right dude. Shouldn’t have yelled at you. Here, take this. On the house with my apologies,” the girl said as she went to grab something from behind the counter. She popped her head back up and handed Derek a decal of a wolf silhouette filled in by a swirling galaxy. 

“Cool. Thanks.” Derek said, checking out the decal. He looked up and gave her a nod and a smile before heading back out toward the Toyota. She grinned back and gave him a little wave in return. Derek turned back around in the doorway before he left. He honestly couldn't imagine how he'd been in such a shit mood on his way in. 

“By the way, I’m Derek,” he said.

“Phoenix,” the girl replied. 

“No shit.” 

“Yes shit.” 

“Huh. See ya later, then,” Derek said.

Derek thought that everything turned out a lot better than it could have. Everyone was getting such a huge “I told you so” when he got back. Derek had great people skills and his pack had no clue what they were talking about. 

Derek came home to find Isaac had left and had been replaced on the couch by Danny and Boyd. Scott and Stiles were in the kitchen and something smelled awesome. Derek gave a little inner fist pump because good smells and Stiles in the kitchen usually meant awesome food. 

“Hey guys!” Derek said throwing a wave their way and grinning a little at the way Boyd had his arm stretched out behind Danny’s shoulder, just shy of actually resting on him. God, they were so obvious. They gave him a weird look, but he ignored it in favor of bee-lining it to the kitchen. 

“Please tell me you’re making enough for me,” Derek said leaning over Stiles’s shoulder to look at the grilled cheese he was making. Stiles went hardcore on his grilled cheeses. He used something like four different kinds of cheese, minimum.

“Oh fuck! Dude, what did we say about sneaking up on Stiles?” Stiles gasped, jumping back from the stove a little. Derek just chuckled. 

“Yeah yeah, you’re gonna get me a bell, right? Now back to this grilled cheese business. You're in _my_ loft and I demand lunch.” Derek said, poorly imitating his own usually demanding tone. Stiles stared at him, mouth hanging open. Scott narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. 

“Um yeah. I can hook you up. You want one or two?” Stiles asked, apparently shaking off whatever weirdness had temporarily taken hold of him. 

“Two. Definitely. Oh shit, check this out!” Derek said, pulling the decal from his pocket and handing it over to Stiles, “The chick at the store gave it to me.” 

Stiles gave the decal a long hard look, as though he were examining some ancient text, and then passed it to Scott. Scott gave it the same solemn treatment. 

“Are you guys alright?” Derek asked, looking between the two of them warily. 

“Uh yeah, are _you_ alright?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah… be a lot better if you guys would stop giving me creepy looks, though.” Derek said, lifting an eyebrow at them. 

“Ok, sure,” Stiles said, exchanging another significant glance with Scott. Whatever. Derek brushed it off as some weird psychic best friend shit that had nothing to do with him. 

“Ok… Well you make me sammiches and I’m gonna go change and put this thing on my car,” Derek said, waving the decal. The stupid ass jeans he had decided to wear had suddenly begun to irritate the hell out of him. Why did he buy everything so _tight_? 

“ _Sammiches_?” Scott muttered under his breath as Derek walked away.

Derek turned away from the still incredibly weird looks Scott and Stiles were exchanging and jogged up the spiral staircase. He shucked off his leather jacket (it honestly wasn’t near cold enough for it), boots, and stupidly tight jeans in exchange for a pair of sweat pants and a black wifebeater. He figured he wasn’t going anywhere for a little while so he was free to bum around in sweatpants and sock feet. 

Derek suddenly realized there was something he hadn’t done yet, not since he'd moved into the loft. He jumped over the railing, bypassing the stairs, and appraised the state of the wooden floors. They could definitely use a wax, but they still looked pretty slick.

Derek took a short running start and then slid across the floor on his socks. He had to do it a couple more times before finally looking up to see Danny and Boyd giving him matching judgmental looks.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve never done it,” Derek said, folding his arms over his chest.

“No,” Boyd said flatly, but Danny just pointedly looked away. Boyd noticed and snorted in laughter.

“Really?” he asked. Danny just shrugged and Derek pointed at him as if to say, _“See! It's not just me,”_ before heading back toward the kitchen and the delicious smells of Stiles and food. 

Derek was pretty sure he didn’t mean to mentally include Stiles in the “delicious smells” category, but shit, now that he thought about it, Stiles did smell pretty good, even when he wasn’t cooking. Kind of like fresh cut grass and lemon lime soda. Even his sweat smelled good, and yes that was a thing. Some people had that rancid taco meat b.o., but Stiles just smelled sort of warm and masculine and... Derek really needed to adjust that train of thought quick or things were going to get really embarrassing. 

Derek pointedly ignored the sketchy looks he was still getting from Scott and Stiles as he walked into the kitchen. They were going to give him a complex if they didn’t cool it. He dipped down under the sink and grabbed the Windex and a roll of paper towels.

As Derek headed toward the elevator, he overhead Scott saying, “Dude, I think he was serious about the decal… should we stop him?” 

What the hell did they have against the decal? Derek thought Stiles, at least, would have liked it. He loved pointing out random wolf themed items to Derek and he was always telling him he should buy the stupid wolf calendars and tee shirts they saw at Walmart or the big truck stop gas station on the edge of town. 

By the time the elevator reached the ground floor, Derek realized he’d completely forgotten to grab his shoes from upstairs. He thought about going back up to grab some sneakers, but instead he just headed outside in his sock feet. It wasn’t wet out and he could always wash the socks anyway. 

Derek went out to where the Toyota was parked and scoped out a decent looking spot on his back bumper before cleaning and drying it and carefully applying the sticker. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and smiled. He thought it looked pretty awesome, if he did say so himself. The others would like it once they saw it on the car, he figured. 

The dirty socks got thrown off by the door when Derek walked in. He figured it was better to walk around barefoot than track dirt in the house. He'd just throw the socks in the laundry later. He'd always been such a stickler about things like that, but with the mood he was in, he just didn't see the point in getting stressed over a couple dirty socks.

Derek had finished up just in time for food, apparently. Stiles had managed to whip up a stack of grilled cheeses that he was splitting up onto paper plates. 

“You want something to drink?” Stiles asked, handing him a plate. Derek took it from him and set it down.

“Go sit down. You cooked, I’ll grab drinks. What do you guys want?” Derek asked Scott and Stiles. They paused for a moment before answering that they both wanted Mountain Dew. Derek opened the fridge and grabbed three cans of Dew, shooing Scott and Stiles away with the multiple plates of grilled cheese they were balancing. 

“Boyd, Danny, you guys want something to drink?” Derek called into the other room. Another weird pause before they both answered that water would be fine. Derek grabbed two bottles of water and managed to arrange everything in his arms so that he could grab his plate too without making two trips. He made it over to the couch and leaned forward to let everyone grab their drinks from their precarious places in his arms. 

“Who’s the extra soda for?” Stiles asked. 

“Um, me?” Derek replied, bemused. Who else would it be for?

“You don’t drink soda, dude.” Scott said, looking at Derek like he’d just grown an extra head.

“I’m a werewolf, Scott. I don’t think one soda is going to kill me,” Derek said rolling his eyes. He then folded his legs under himself and sat down on the floor in front of where Stiles was sitting on the couch. He realized he could easily have taken the empty seat on the other side of Scott, but he didn’t really mind sitting by Stiles and sitting on the floor made it easier to reach his food on the coffee table. 

“Ok, that’s the last straw. What the hell happened to you today? Did you find the witch?” Stiles blurted out. 

“Yeah, but it was fine.” Derek assured him, taking the first bite of his sandwich and moaning in appreciation. He leaned back against Stiles’s legs and looked up at him, giving him a smile and thumbs up in lieu of thanking him with his mouth full. Stiles just stared at him, his cheeks flushed. He hadn’t known Stiles to get all embarrassed over compliments to his food before, but it was pretty adorable so Derek didn’t question it. 

“It was fine? Derek, you come back acting all- whatever! Something had to have happened,” Scott said. 

“I’m not acting _'whatever’_! If anyone’s acting weird, it’s you guys! Look, I found her and it turns out you guys were right. Completely harmless. She even apologized and gave me free stuff. Everything’s fine,” Derek reassured them with a shrug before opening his can of Mountain Dew. 

“Jesus Christ, Derek. You’re… you’re barefoot and being nice and- and you’re not even using a coaster! _Nothing_ is fine!” Stiles sputtered. 

“You’re the one that’s always telling me to relax! Apparently I can’t do anything right. Either I’m an asshole or something’s wrong with me!” Derek cried out, exasperated. He was kind of surprised how much that hurt. His appetite fully lost, Derek set his food down and got up. 

“Derek-“ Stiles started, but Derek cut him off.

“No… I get it. Just drop it, Stiles,” he said and headed up the spiral stairs to the space he'd sanctioned his room when the pack started hanging out at the loft more often. He made sure to grab his dirty socks on the way. God knows Stiles would have something to say about it if he’d forgotten them. Apparently everyone but Derek was allowed to be a slob in his own house. How many times had Derek complained about the coaster thing only to be ignored? Now that he didn’t care, coasters were suddenly a big deal.

Derek went to his room and collapsed on the bed. He hadn’t thought past the storming away part because now he was sitting in his room alone and bored and maybe still a little bit hungry. He rolled on his back and looked around his room. How had he not noticed how boring his room was? Just bare brick walls. No wonder he never came in here when he wasn’t going to sleep. Maybe he should get a couple posters or a TV or something. 

Derek had made a point of not listening to what the others were whispering after he walked away. He didn’t really feel like hearing any more complaints about his weird attitude and apparently shocking lack of footwear. He couldn’t, however, ignore the sound of Stiles coming up the stairs. 

“Derek? Can I come in?” he said, standing at the top of the stairs. God, sometimes Derek really wished he had a door because he was pretty sure he looked every bit the part of a teenage girl throwing a temper tantrum, the way he was hanging listlessly across his bed. 

“I guess,” Derek grumbled. His acquiescence to Stiles’s request may have had more than a little to do with the fact that Stiles had brought Derek’s sandwich up with him.

“Here, I come bearing sammiches,” Stiles said, sitting down at the edge of the bed and passing over Derek’s lunch. Derek narrowed his eyes for a moment and then accepted the plate. 

“What do you want, Stiles?” Derek grumbled, already scarfing down the rest of his grilled cheese.

“I just wanted to come apologize. I didn’t mean to be a dick. You just… caught us off guard. I mean, you come back from seeing a witch and you’re acting all… different. What were we supposed to think?” 

“You do realize how much it sucks that me acting nice and enjoying myself is apparently a sign of magical interference, right?” Derek said; his mouth still half full. 

“Yeah, I guess. It just seemed really out of the blue, ya know?” Stiles said.

“Well you guys _were_ kind of hassling me about being uptight and intimidating, right before I left,” Derek pointed out. 

“Yeah, I guess we do give you a lot of shit,” Stiles admitted. 

“You know, it’s not like I want to be the bad guy. I just feel like I still have a lot of responsibility for this pack. I worry about everything all the time. I feel like it’s my job to be the bad guy, whether I want to or not. Apparently all I was doing was making everyone hate me,” Derek said, setting the emptied paper plate on the floor next to his bed and leaning back against his headboard. 

“Dude, we don’t hate you. No one hates you. We just don’t want you to go crazy and snap from stress. Honestly, if you’re trying to chill out, I’m happy for you! Chilling out is excellent. I shouldn’t have bitched at you for it. I was just worried,” Stiles said, nudging his elbow into Derek’s knee. Derek nodded. 

“So are we cool?” Stiles asked. Derek rolled his eyes and instead of answering pulled Stiles in for a hug. Stiles sputtered for a second before relaxing into the hug. Damn… Stiles really did smell good. 

“We’re cool,” Derek said. Stiles gave him an awkward pat on the back before pulling away from the hug, his face flushed once again. Ok, admittedly Derek didn’t exactly have a history of being free with the physical affection, but Stiles would just have to get used to it because Derek really wanted to do that again. Soon. In fact, he had to stop himself from immediately pulling Stiles back in again because he knew two hugs in a row would definitely freak Stiles out. 

“You coming back downstairs?” Stiles asked, standing up and awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. Derek nodded and got up off the bed. He grabbed his paper plate and threw it away before heading back into the living room. Naturally everyone was giving him sheepish looks because they’d heard the entire conversation he’d had with Stiles. 

“Hey, sorry if we were being dicks,” Scott said from behind a mouthful of melted cheese. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t really have room to talk, ya know?” Derek said. He went and sat back in his previous spot, this time not hesitating to lean against Stiles’s legs. After all, they’d hugged so the casual physical contact dam had already been broken. 

Derek noticed the pointed look Danny and Boyd were giving him from the loveseat and he made a point of flipping them off to where Stiles wouldn’t notice it. He could feel his face flushing, but he ignored it. Like Danny and Boyd had room to judge him with the way they were plastered against each others’ sides. Danny snorted in laughter at Derek’s obvious embarrassment. 

“What’s so funny?” Stiles asked, peeling his eyes away from the movie.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought of something funny,” Danny said, still giving Derek an obnoxiously smug smile. Derek rolled his eyes and settled against the warmth of Stiles’s legs. Haters gonna hate after all.

After the movie, Scott and Stiles got up to leave. Danny and Boyd were staying (no surprise there). Without thinking, Derek pulled Stiles in for another hug (trying his best not to be obvious about smelling him). Suddenly he realized it was going to be awkward if he didn’t hug Scott too. He hurriedly wiped the startled look off his face and pulled Scott into a bro-hug, complete with manly back slap. He pointedly ignored the laughter coming from Danny and Boyd and the weird look Scott was giving him.

“What? It’s just something I’m trying out. You don’t want a hug, then fine,” Derek said, shrugging. Danny just shook his head and continued to chuckle quietly. Jesus, no wonder he hadn’t done this before. The hugging thing was turning out to be a disaster. 

“Nah, it’s cool! I’m all for some hugs!” Scott finally said, cheerfully patting Derek’s shoulder.

“What, no hugs for us?” Boyd asked with a smirk after Scott and Stiles had pulled away. 

“Shut up, Boyd,” Derek said, walking toward the bathroom to hopefully drown himself in the shower. 

“Aw come on! Hug it out, Derek!” Danny shouted after him. 

“I hate you guys,” Derek grumbled, but there was no real venom in it.

[](http://s35.photobucket.com/user/throwme2thedogs/media/Vibe-Divider_zps75ba8d94.png.html)  


The next morning, Derek’s alarm went off at six a.m., as it always did. Most of the time he was up before the alarm ever got a chance to go off, if he'd even slept at all, but he'd actually managed to fall asleep with no trouble at all. A small part of Derek felt he should be more interested in the in pinpointing the reason for the sudden change, but he was too busy enjoying the results to bother.

Derek shut the alarm off and didn't end up crawling out of bed until nine, feeling more rested than he had in a long time. He put on the sweatpants and tank top he’d worn the day before and grabbed his iPod and sneakers before heading downstairs to find some breakfast. Apparently Derek was just in time to catch a glimpse of Boyd kissing Danny as Danny headed out to the elevator. Derek’s mouth was open before he could stop himself.

“Ha!” he shouted from the top of the spiral stairs. Danny blushed and Boyd glared. 

“Hey, don’t give me that look. After yesterday, you guys deserve it,” Derek said, feeling only a little apologetic for being a total moment ruiner. Boyd rolled his eyes, but his lips were turned up in a grin. Danny waved as the elevator doors closed. By the time Boyd headed back in, he found Derek standing in the kitchen, arms folded and a shit eating grin on his face. 

“So… you and Danny?” 

“You and Stiles?” Boyd countered.

“What about me and Stiles? There is no ‘me and Stiles’,” Derek said and damn if he didn’t sound a little put out by that.

“Yeah, but you want there to be,” Boyd said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Was I really being that obvious?” Derek asked, cringing a little. The second hug was probably a bit over the top.

“Definitely. But to be fair, I knew long before yesterday.” 

“Bullshit,” Derek said, rummaging through the fridge to find the turkey bacon and some eggs. 

“You used to be a little better at hiding it, but you’ve always been pretty Stiles-centric. The way you complain about him is downright... _reverent_ at times,” Boyd said, reaching past Derek to grab a container of yogurt. 

“That makes no sense,” Derek grumbled, but he was having a hard time denying it as fiercely as he would have liked. 

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure he remains completely oblivious,” Boyd offered casually. Derek sighed in relief until Boyd continued on, “but you should tell him.” 

“What? Why? No,” Derek said, sputtering. He’d been repressing his feelings for Stiles for so long that he was having trouble remembering why they were a bad thing. Other than the potential embarrassment of being rejected (in what would likely be the most awkward fashion imaginable, knowing Stiles), of course. The annoying little voice that constantly reminded Derek that Stiles was too-young-too-human-too-big-of-a-risk just... wasn't there today. 

“Come on. Are you really as oblivious as he is? Figure it out, Derek.” Boyd said, grabbing a spoon and heading to the table to eat his yogurt in peace and quiet. 

Derek thought about what Boyd said while he made his breakfast and mulled over it as he ate. After eating, he went out for a run and mentally went through every recent interaction he’d had with Stiles, looking for evidence that he might feel the same way. Yeah, there were lots of instances of sickeningly adorable blushing, but Stiles blushed pretty easily.

If they were in elementary school, Derek would have no doubt that Stiles was into him. If Derek weren’t a lot bigger and stronger than Stiles, there was a good chance Stiles would have pushed him down on the playground and pulled his hair already, but instead he stuck with constantly teasing and annoying Derek. He even named the hamsters Sourbaby and Grumpster, “after their daddy”. Was that flirting or was Stiles just naturally that obnoxious and annoying? 

By the time Derek headed in for a shower, he had made the decision to keep a closer eye on his interactions with Stiles. If he was going to say anything… Wait, was he seriously planning on saying something? Derek’s heart started pounding loud enough that he was fairly certain Boyd could hear it through the shower. 

Derek forced himself to calm down and just think. He just needed a pressure-free environment to talk to Stiles in. If they could just relax and spend some time together without being under the whole pack's scrutiny, then Derek's life would be a lot easier. Of course, asking to spend time alone with Stiles was just as problematic and awkward. 

Suddenly, it hit Derek. They needed to have a party. Everyone would be relaxed and they’d be distracted enough that maybe they wouldn’t hassle Derek and fuck with him for hanging out with Stiles. Then he could see if Stiles was actually interested in him and maybe… maybe he’d actually make a move. 

Anyway, he’d never really had a party before. Not since he was fourteen years old and his parents had thrown him a pizza party with all his friends from the basketball team. The pack hung out at the loft often enough and occasionally they would order out and watch movies, but Derek was pretty sure that didn't count as a party. That was more of a... gathering or a get-together. They needed to have a _real_ party. Hell, Derek was actually getting pretty excited about the idea. Why the hell hadn’t he done this already?

Derek got out of the shower and looked himself over. Jesus, he was getting hairy as hell. Normally Derek had a fairly strict body hair removal regimen (not that he would have EVER admitted it), but he hadn’t had time lately and now he just didn’t want to. He was a damn werewolf. Derek had to wonder if his previous shitty attitude had something to do with his semi-regular waxing appointments. It seemed pretty plausible. 

New and improved Derek was going to embrace the chest hair and happy trail, though he had to wonder if Stiles might prefer him all smooth. He decided to risk it anyway. He had a feeling Stiles wouldn’t mind. He may or may not have noticed Stiles rocking some body hair of his own. His private Derek time had been fueled by flashes of a dark trail of hair leading down into Stiles’s jeans on more than one occasion. 

Derek decided to skip his usual hair molding routine in honor of his new au natural bent. He gave himself an encouraging nod in the mirror and went to grab his cellphone. He had plans to make. He was definitely going to need Lydia on this one… and Scott. Scott definitely had a use in his party plans. He decided to call Lydia first. 

_”Derek.”_ Lydia answered the phone like an accusation. Derek had forgotten that he’d been kinda rude to her the day before. No doubt she was still pissed. 

“Lydia, you need to put your irritation with me on hold and get your ass over here.” Derek said. He heard Lydia huff indignantly through the phone. 

_”And why is that?”_

“Because I'm throwing a party at the loft and you’re helping.” 

_”You’re fucking kidding.”_ Lydia said after a pregnant pause. Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. He was sure Lydia would feel it through the phone if he just… concentrated….

 _”Derek, I swear to god, if you are rolling your eyes right now…”_ Derek smiled at that. 

“Look, I’m not kidding. I want to have a house party. Or loft party, whatever. We need alcohol and food and music and the whole nine yards. And…. I’m not exactly a pro at this and….” 

_”And?”_ Lydia drawled. Derek huffed out a sigh. She was going to make him say it.

“And I bow to your superior party planning skills and humbly beseech you to honor this lowly peasant with your assistance,” Derek said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Lydia let out a little trill of laughter. 

_”Fine, since you asked so nicely, but Derek?”_

“Yeah?” 

_”Answer me honestly. Are you on werewolf cocaine right now or something?”_

“Jesus Lydia, not you too,” Derek said in annoyance. 

_”It’s a fair question. You’re willingly throwing a party at your place, Derek. This is fairly unprecedented.”_

“No, I’m not under the influence of anything... yet. I’m just trying something out here. I’ve been informed by reliable sources that I need the stick removed from my ass, so consider this a celebration of my new stick-free existence.” 

_”Hmm…”_

“Hmm? Hmm what?” 

_“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Stiles would it?”_

“I’m hanging up now, Lydia. See you when you get here,” Derek said and ended the call before immediately dialing Scott. 

_”Hey Derek!”_ Scott said. God, Derek was really fucking glad Scott didn’t hate him anymore. Seeing how nice Scott usually was made it even more obvious how much of a dick he used to be to Derek. Cheerful goofy Scott was a lot more pleasant by far. 

“Hey, I have a favor to ask you.” 

_”Shoot,”_ Scott said. Derek could hear the Xbox in the background. He realized he’d let the line go silent for just a little bit too long because he’d been listening to see if Stiles was there with him. 

_”Derek, you still there?”_

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, got distracted. No, I’m thinking of having a party at the loft and I was wondering if you could help me out with acquiring certain things.” 

_”Wait, like… a_ real _party?”_

“Yes, Scott. A real party.” Derek confirmed with another sigh. When the hell was everyone going to stop acting so completely thrown by everything Derek did? It was exhausting having to constantly reaffirm everything he said. 

_“Holy shit! That’s awesome! What do you need, dude?”_ Scott asked. Derek could hear excited chatter in the background at the mention of a party. Stiles was definitely there and he was questioning Isaac about Derek’s side of the conversation since he was the only one there that couldn’t already hear everything.

“Well, don’t get offended if I’m totally off base here, but you smoke weed right?” 

_”Err… no?”_

“Scott, I don’t care either way. I was just hoping you could get some for the party. I can give you money for it, obviously,” Derek said. He could hear the background noise go silent and Stiles repeatedly whispering, ‘What? What did he say?’ to Isaac.

_”Derek?”_

“Yeah?” 

_“I just want to let you know that this is the best phone conversation I’ve ever had with you. And yes, I can get whatever you need. I’ll swing by and pick up the money later?”_

“Ok, great. Thanks.” 

_” Oh hey, how about we come by for lunch and you can tell us more about this party idea? We’ll make Stiles cook,”_ Scott offered. Derek could hear Stiles making a noise of complaint in the background, but he knew Stiles would cook if they asked him. 

“Make it so,” Derek said. Scott actually cackled at that before hanging up the phone and Derek couldn’t help but smile. This party was probably the best idea he’d had since… ever. As long as he could talk to Stiles without embarrassing himself (and without Stiles embarrassing him and the pack embarrassing them both) then it would be a total success. 

Derek got dressed with slightly more care than he had yesterday, mostly because Lydia was coming over and would tear him a new asshole if she caught him wearing sweatpants in broad daylight and without the excuse of working out. He pulled on one of his many pairs of snug dark jeans and a soft gray v-neck shirt and headed downstairs to wait for Lydia. 

Lydia, of course, had impeccable timing and walked out of the elevator with her cellphone in hand, smelling magnificent. Derek had to hand it to her; she had a knack for choosing a perfume subtle and pleasant enough to not make him want to be sick. He wasn’t a huge fan of overwhelming perfumes and colognes, but he figured most werewolves weren’t. Stiles only ever used deodorant and Derek kind of loved him for it.

“Ok, so first things first. We need to start delegating tasks and inviting people. When are you planning on having this party?” Lydia asked. She wasn’t wasting any time getting to the point, but she was also simultaneously assessing Derek’s product free do and probably trying to ascertain whether or not he was, in fact, on werewolf cocaine.

“Umm, tonight?” Derek said. Lydia flashed him a glare. 

“It’s doable, but it’s going to be a pain the ass. Other than the pack, who do you want to invite?” Lydia asked. She’d moved on from her visual pat-down and was now swiping through the contacts on her phone.

“I don’t know. You guys have friends. Invite them,” Derek said with a shrug. Lydia flipped her hair and started typing on her phone in a flurry of fingers. He’d definitely asked the right girl for the job. 

“Ok, the invitations are settled. I told the rest of the pack to invite people too so we should be set on that front. Now comes the fun part. Making our friends do things,” Lydia said with a delightfully evil grin. 

“Scott’s already picking up weed. He’s bringing Isaac and Stiles by for lunch. We’re making Stiles cook, obviously.” 

“Weed, Derek? Really? God, aren't you a little old for that?” Lydia asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Lydia,” Derek chastised with an equally potent eyebrow gesture that said to drop it. Lydia shrugged and rolled her eyes. 

“Ok, well when Scott’s done with that he can go get food and snacks with Isaac. You and Stiles can go get the drinks, alcoholic and otherwise, and Boyd and Danny can stay at the loft to clean up. I’ll recruit Allison and Cora to come help me with decorations , music, and entertainment. You do realize this isn't going to be cheap and you’re going to have to be the party sugar daddy, yes?” 

“I know. Want to run to the ATM with me before lunch?” Derek asked. 

“As long as I can drive,” Lydia said, holding out her hand for Derek's keys. 

Derek shrugged and dropped the keys in Lydia's waiting hand. He hadn't really been as protective of his new car as he had been of the Camaro. There was no way he would have let Lydia drive that. Derek sighed wistfully in remembrance of his old car. The Toyota was fine, it was just... practical, and Derek kind of missed the way people looked at him when he pulled up in a shiny black sports car.

On the way to the ATM, Lydia did a little mental math to figure out how much everyone would need so that Derek knew how much to withdraw and how much to give each group. All the while she was continuously texting, getting ahold of people and setting plans in place. She was like party mission control. It was both amazing and a little intimidating. 

Derek did his best not to cringe at the final total Lydia gave him for the party budget. After all, he'd saved quite a bit of money by spending the better part of his time in Beacon Hills as a squatter. He could afford to splurge a little. 

By the time Derek and Lydia got back to the loft, the entire pack was there waiting for them (sans Peter, who was conveniently out of town and had been since Scott had become the true Alpha). Before Derek could even finishing greeting the pack, Lydia was doling out assignments and cash. Cora grumbled at being lumped in with “the girls”, but didn't argue. Derek was pretty sure she didn't actually mind, but just didn't want to admit it. 

“Calm down, Lyds. Let everyone come inside for a minute. Apparently, I'm making lunch,” Stiles interrupted before Lydia could send everyone on their way. Lydia sighed and looked down at the time on her cell phone.

“Fine, but make something quick. Allison, Cora, and I are just going to grab something while we're out,” Lydia said. Cora looked like she wanted to complain about her lunch plans being made without her input, but she thought better of it. Probably because she realized Lydia would most likely be paying.

“I, um, think we'll do the same.” Danny said, giving Boyd a meaningful look. Derek attempted to hold back a giggle. They were definitely going on a lunch date. It was pretty obvious considering they actually had to come back to the loft when they were done eating anyway. Lydia raised a perfectly groomed brow, but refrained from commenting.

“Awesome, less for me to cook!” Stiles said. Cooking for himself and three large werewolves was, no doubt, enough of a challenge for him. Luckily, Stiles was awesome at making huge filling casseroles and pasta dishes. 

The others headed out on their merry ways while Scott, Isaac, Stiles, and Derek all headed up into the loft. As soon as they made their way into the kitchen, Stiles stretched and cracked his knuckles dramatically before digging in the cabinets. Derek didn't bother fighting back a smile. 

Luckily, the kitchen was roomy enough that Stiles didn't complain about having company as he cooked. They'd tried that in the Stilinski kitchen once, but Stiles had shuffled them all out, complaining that he was getting claustrophobic. 

“So what's on the menu?” Isaac asked.

“Hm... meatball subs?” Stiles suggested, pulling a giant package of hamburger meat out of the fridge. Derek, Isaac, and Scott all nodded sagely at his wise choice. Ever since Stiles had started cooking meals for the pack, Derek kept a well-stocked fridge and pantry, and it was pretty easy for Stiles to come up with the ingredients he needed.

“So... what brought on this sudden urge to party hardy?” Stiles asked, working spices into the ground meat. Derek was very well aware of how odd it was that he wanted to lick raw meat from Stiles's hands, but that didn't make it any less true. That was the kind of weird werewolf shit that Stiles would most definitely _not_ find sexy, but damn if Derek couldn't help it.

“Just seemed like something we should do,” Derek said with a shrug, “Seemed like fun, I guess.”

“Well, I heartily approve. New and improved Derek is the bomb,” Stiles said, bumping his shoulder into Derek. Holy hell, when did Derek get that close to him? Derek tried to casually move out of Stiles's personal space without being too obvious, but he could sense the smirks on Scott and Isaac's faces already.

“Do people still say that? That things are the bomb?” Stiles wondered aloud, completely oblivious to the silent, teasing goings-on, just outside his line of sight.

“No, I don't think so,” Isaac said.

“Oh well, I'm bringing it back.”

Stiles finished making the meatballs, while Derek and Scott cut and toasted Italian bread to put them on. Stiles talked continuously, as he checked the oven and stirred the marinara he was heating up. 

Derek felt amazingly at peace. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way. He'd always had that little voice in his mind that was constantly reminding him of all the ways he'd ever fucked up. He was never truly relaxed because some part of him insisted that he always be on edge, always ready for the next big disaster. It was an exhausting way to live his life. 

“Hey, I gotta make a call really quick. Give me a second,” Derek said, moving away from Stiles's side (because he'd somehow ended up right next to him without noticing it... again). The others nodded and continued chattering on about a drinking game they wanted to play that involved playing Battleship with shots. 

Derek stepped out of the kitchen and did a quick search on his phone. He knew it was a pretty small chance, but he felt like he should try to get ahold of Phoenix, the girl from the head shop. After all, he was pretty sure it was having a stranger call him out like that that had him thinking so differently. He figured the easiest way to thank her was to invite her to the party. Plus, she kinda seemed like a fun person to have at a party. 

After Googling the name of the store, Derek finally found the number and called. After a few rings, a familiar, cheery voice answered.

 _”From the Ashes, this is Phoenix. How's it going?”_ Derek suddenly understood the name of her shop and chuckled a little.

“Hey, not sure if you remember, but this is Derek? The guy you gave the sticker to?” 

_“Oh, hey! How's it hanging, wolfy?”_

“Actually, I’m throwing a party tonight. Thought I'd send an invite your way, if you're up to it.”

_“You know, not to be weird or anything, but I'm kinda seein' someone. I mean, it's not real serious, but I'm not really lookin-”_

“No, no! Not like that! Just like a friend thing! I'm in- sorta taken. Well not really. It's complicated.” Derek rambled, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that his mouth was getting ahead of his brain and that there were two guys with super charged hearing only a stone's throw away. He groaned dejectedly.

 _”Ok, calm down. I feel ya. I'd love to come!”_ Phoenix said. Derek then explained to her how to get to the loft, and he told her to come by around nine. She'd also asked if she should bring anything, and Derek said she was welcome to bring anything she wanted... just as long as it wasn't fucking hamsters. She'd had a good laugh at that.

“Sooo... who was that?” Stiles asked in a casual tone that was clearly forced. Scott and Isaac were nearly in fits and Derek was trying desperately to guess how much Stiles had heard.

“Um, it was the girl that was doing all the spells? She ended up being pretty cool so I thought we should invite her.”

“Oh, cool. She cute?” Stiles asked, still staring rather resolutely at the meatball sub he was putting together. Derek's heart sank a little. He probably should have thought about the possibility of Stiles being attracted to her before he invited the cute and quirky witch. Ugh, she was probably totally Stiles's type too. 

“She's taken,” Derek said, a little too sharply.

“Whoa, okay. Chill. I wasn't interested,” Stiles snapped back. Something was definitely wrong and it only took one look at Isaac and Scott's red faces to figure it out. They were literally about to explode with laughter.

“That was bad,” Isaac whispered. Scott snorted and Derek threw his hands up, completely unsure of his next step. Scott just waved at him before coming up to snag the two subs Stiles had finished for himself and Isaac.

Stiles was about to follow, but Derek stopped him.

“I'm not interested in her either. Just so you know.” Derek said. He was trying to imagine how hysterically awkward he looked at that moment, but he couldn't even imagine it. He just couldn't really think of a smoother way to fix their current misunderstanding. 

“Oh... Ok,” Stiles said, looking at him with more than a little confusion before walking away. Mother-fuck! Apparently Derek would have to be a little less subtle. Maybe this was why he'd never tried to share his feelings about Stiles before. It was frustrating to say the least. 

“I just meant that she's only coming as a friend. More like an acquaintance, really. One that I'm not interested in,” Derek explained. Stiles had turned to blink at him like a startled goldfish and Derek prayed that his face was not nearly as red as Stiles's was. 

“You know what, I think it's definitely time to eat,” Isaac said, interrupting a silence that was growing more and more awkward by the second. Maybe Derek had misread the signs. Maybe Stiles honestly wasn't interested in him as anything more than a friend. Derek was pretty sure that he'd been painfully clear with his awkward declaration, but then he hadn't really left Stiles in a good position to reply in any useful way. 

Shit. He'd definitely have to try that again. Derek decided to wait for the party, like he'd originally planned. Stiles would be more relaxed then, and maybe he'd have had time to pick up on Derek's obvious hints that there was some interest there.

Derek felt a little better by the time he finished his meatball sub, especially when he caught Stiles smiling at him as he licked a stray spot of marinara from his thumb. Derek grinned and self-consciously wiped at his mouth.

“Well, I guess we're on alcohol duty, so do you want to get going?” Derek asked. Stiles had finished his sandwich long before Derek and Isaac, but after Scott. Stiles could eat with the best of them, but Scott's appetite was a force to be reckoned with. 

“Yeah, I'm ready when you are!” Stiles said, standing up and brushing a few errant crumbs from his pants. Derek could already hear the elevator making its way up, and sure enough, he and Stiles were met at the door by Danny and Boyd. Everyone seemed to be running right on time, but then no one really wanted to be the person that messed up Lydia's meticulous schedule. Derek spared a thought for his poor sister left in the banshee's clutches, so to speak, but more and more often he got the idea that spending time with Lydia never bothered Cora half as much as she let on. 

Derek casually tossed his keys to Stiles and snorted out a brief laugh at the look of sheer surprise and wonder on Stiles's face. He'd had Stiles chauffeur him around before, but usually it was in Stiles's jeep. 

“What? Lydia spoiled me to being driven around in my own car,” Derek said with a shrug. Stiles didn't argue with him, but instead hopped in the front seat with a little too much enthusiasm and ended up knocking his knee against the steering wheel pretty hard. Derek came around to where Stiles was still half hanging out of the car, cursing and clutching his knee. 

“Oh come on, is it really that bad?” Derek asked. 

“Yes! Oh my god, look!” Stiles said, hiking up his jeans to show Derek what would likely be a gnarly bruise in no time. Without even thinking, Derek leaned forward and gave Stiles's bare knee a light peck. 

“There. All better. Now quit being such a baby-” Derek looked up from under his lashes and was stopped short by the look in Stiles's eyes. He had been expecting embarrassment or amusement or some combination of the two, but the way Stiles was looking down at Derek showed that he was all too aware of the close proximity between Derek's mouth and his lap. Derek flushed at the intense heat in Stiles's honey golden eyes. He straightened up and Stiles suddenly seemed to become aware of the charged moment and waved Derek away with a slightly forced laugh so that he could shut the door, “Ha ha, very funny. Let's get going before Lydia starts texting to check up on us.” 

They spent the rest of the drive filling the silence with awkward small talk, as they both tried to imagine how many people would actually show up, given such late notice. Lydia seemed to think there'd be plenty of people, given the shopping list she'd texted over as they drove. 

They decided to do most of their shopping at Walmart, since Derek could pick out the booze without having to leave Stiles (still woefully under the legal drinking age) in the car. They stocked up on two-liters, cases of beer, and mixers while Derek gave a lengthy explanation as to the ways in which marijuana was superior to alcohol, first and foremost being the fact that it affected him as it would any human. Stiles listened with an amused smile, as Derek explained that alcohol only affected werewolves in enormous amounts or if wolfsbane had been added in small amounts to slow his body's healing response. 

In other words, Derek's werewolf physiology processed alcohol like it would any poison (other than wolfsbane and mountain ash, obviously), but good ol' Mary Jane didn't set off security in the same way, so to speak. That was all the reason Derek needed to proclaim weed the superior mind altering substance.

“God, please tell me Scott has heard that speech? Seriously, I think he'd propose to you if he were here right now,” Stiles said, his clever mouth stretched in a grin. Derek offered up one of his classic bitch faces to show just how excited he was by that prospect, and Stiles grinned even wider. They were both pushing a cart full of purchases toward the back of the Toyota, to unload them.

“Seriously, Derek. I gotta say, this has been really nice. I mean, just hanging out with you without you snapping at me or throwing me into something.” Derek winced a little at that, but Stiles didn't seem to notice. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I mean, I know I can be a little... rough. I just- Man, I'm just usually so wound up. You don't know...” Derek trailed off as he noticed the suddenly unimpressed look Stiles was giving him as they unloaded their purchases into the trunk.

“See, that's the thing. I really do know, Derek. Trust me, you’re looking at the King of Anxiety right here. I mean, yeah, I express mine a little differently, but I know what it's like,” Stiles explained, and Derek believed him. 

The truth was, Derek had spent a lot of time channeling his fear and anxiety into anger without ever making that connection. Fear, in his eyes, was a weakness, but anger could be strength. Anger was his anchor. Sometimes he'd felt like he'd snap in two under the weight of all that fear, but he never let it make him weak. He just couldn't afford it. He'd been that way for so long, he almost forgot what it felt like not to be afraid. Now for the first time, he looked for that usual miasma of fear and anger and mistrust, only to find that it simply wasn't there. 

Maybe it was finally having something like a stable pack again that had done it. He never would have expected to be in a pack full of mostly teenagers led by Scott McCall, but it worked. When push came to shove, he trusted his pack to have his back. It was a feeling he hadn't really had since his family had been alive. 

Derek was pulled out of his silent reverie by the car shifting into park. Apparently they'd made it back to the loft without him even noticing it. 

“You're totally carrying most of this crap in, dude. My weak human arms can only do so little,” Stiles said, looking back over his shoulder at the heavy assortment of two liters, bottles, and cases of beer. Derek got out of the car and whistled loudly, calling for any pack members that were inside and able to help. Stiles covered his ears and winced. 

“That is freakishly loud,” Stiles complained, but Derek just smiled smugly. 

“My mom taught me that trick. She used to whistle like that to call the kids home for dinner and even the humans could hear her from pretty much anywhere in the preserve,” Derek explained with a fond smile, as he remembered the way everyone would scramble to get home, convinced they had to make it back before everyone else or all the food would be gone. Despite the fact that there was always plenty for everyone, Derek suddenly realized how rare it was that he thought about memories like that, much less discussed them with anyone else. 

Isaac, Scott, and Boyd all met them at the car and Stiles actually didn't end up carrying anything. A turn of events he seemed all too pleased with. Derek rolled his eyes and transferred a bag with a couple of bottles of Mountain Dew in it to Stiles. Stiles pouted, but Derek just grinned. 

When the elevator opened, they found the loft had been completely transformed. Lydia was still directing everyone as they put the finishing touches on the loft, but the place already looked amazing. Derek had been half-expecting streamers and a playlist set up on iTunes, but he really should have known to expect better from Lydia. Instead there were beautifully glowing multicolored lights and an actual DJ setting up under the enormous window. 

Lydia was apparently busy directing an equally fond and irritated Cora as to where she should be hanging a large paper lantern, so Allison stepped in as her second in command and told the boys where to deposit their haul. 

With all hands on deck, the loft was set up for an impromptu party in no time. Derek was fully impressed, but he was harboring a few secret doubts that anyone outside of the pack would actually show up on such short notice. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Lydia that because he valued the general health and well-being of his testicles. 

Derek was making a couple wolfsbane-laced cocktails for Scott and Isaac to try when people finally started arriving, coming up in the elevator in little clusters. One of the first people to arrive was Phoenix, carrying a bottle of something clearly homemade. 

“Hey wolfy! Gotcha something good. Way better than wolfsbane laced Jack and Cokes, I promise!” Phoenix said, with a conspiratorial wink at Scott. Derek eyed the bottle of foggy purple liquid warily.

“Oh come on. It's fine! My own recipe! Guaranteed to rock your little werewolfy world,” Phoenix said, popping the cork out and handing it over. Scott took the bottle and sniffed it warily. He and Isaac exchanged looks before Scott finally nodded and took a swig, clearly willing to take one for the team.

“Damn! That's actually really good!” Scott said, handing the bottle to Isaac. Isaac took a swig too and smiled broadly. 

“By the way, this is my Alpha, Scott, and that's Isaac. Guys, this is Phoenix, I told you about her earlier? With the spells?” Derek said. At some point Stiles had decided to give up the argument he'd been having with the DJ in favor of investigating the new guest.

“And I'm Stiles,” Stiles interjected, “Thanks for the hamsters, by the way.” 

Phoenix laughed and looked over to at the little maze of colorful tunnels that made up the exterior of the hamster cage. The pack had taken great joy in slowly expanding the little Habitrail with random tubes and wheels and weird add-ons from the pet store.

“Glad to see they're being well cared for!” Phoenix chuckled.

“Oh yeah. They live in the lap of hamster luxury,” Stiles said, nodding proudly at the cage. 

“Well, I'm gonna go mingle. Looks like a snack table over there with my name on it,” Phoenix said, dipping away, but before she did she elbowed Derek in the side and whispered (or what she thought must have passed for whispering), “Go get 'im, tiger!” 

Derek groaned as Isaac and Scott chuckled at him. They'd had more than their fair share of schadenfreude over the last couple of days when it came to Derek and Stiles. Stiles just looked confused and for a second Derek wanted to roll his eyes at his insane obliviousness. 

“What was that about?” Stiles asked after Phoenix had walked away. Scott and Isaac were still giggling like school girls, clutching at the bottle of mysterious purple werewolf booze. 

“Just... ignore them,” Derek said, “Want me to make you a drink?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles said with a shrug.

“Do you care what it is?” Derek asked. Stiles just shook his head. 

“Surprise me,” Stiles said. Derek poured a couple shots of Southern Comfort into a solo cup, added a couple shots of peach schnapps, and then topped it off with orange juice. Stiles stirred it around with his finger and sucked it clean and Derek tried not to choke on his breath. For Christ's sake! He'd already mixed it, and there were straws right there. How often did Stiles need to find completely unnecessary reasons to put his fingers in his mouth?

Stiles took a swig and then smiled broadly, “Nice job, bartender! That's not half bad.”

Derek just shrugged and smiled. He grabbed a cup of his own and went to get some of Phoenix's weird purple drink before Scott and Isaac finished it all and Stiles followed. Cora had managed to break herself away from Lydia and had joined Scott and Isaac in passing the bottle around. Derek grabbed the bottle from her with a grin at her irritated growl. It was pure instinct to piss off his little sister and he was pretty sure he had lots of catching up to do on that front. 

“Looks like the party's finally starting to get going,” Isaac said, looking around at the slowly filling loft. The DJ was blasting some upbeat dance music and a few people had actually started to dance. 

“Yeah. You know, now might be a good time to partake in some of that stuff I got for you earlier,” Scott said, nudging Derek conspiratorially. 

“Dude, I'm pretty sure you can say weed. I don't think we invited any narcs. I mean, I'm the sheriff's kid and I'm not saying shit, so you're probably in the clear,” Stiles said. Derek laughed at that and Scott just shrugged. 

“We can go upstairs if you guys don't mind sitting on my bed?” Derek offered.

“Wow, Der. You're actually willingly letting people in your room. Kudos on the character growth,” Cora said with a smirk. Stiles barked out a laugh and Derek elbowed him in the side. 

“Right. Not allowed to laugh at the sibling burn. Got it,” Stiles said, rubbing his side. Derek just rolled his eyes and led the way up the spiral stairs, ruffling Cora's hair out of her ponytail as he passed and quickly ducking out of the way of the punch she aimed at his arm. 

Derek jogged up the stairs and quickly threw a comforter over his unmade bed before everyone had a chance to come sit down. He sat and leaned against the headboard as everyone slowly filled in around him, conveniently leaving the space next to Derek open for Stiles. Even Cora seemed to be in on the secret (if you could even call it that, anymore). Derek was pretty sure it was only a secret to Stiles at that point. 

Before Scott could ask, Derek found a flat book and handed it to him so he could break up the weed and pick out the seeds and stems. To Derek's slight surprise, Scott handed the baggy, the book, and the papers to Stiles. Derek held in a groan. There was no freaking way he could handle Stiles rolling a joint.

Derek tried to keep his attention elsewhere, but he couldn't keep his eyes off Stiles’s clever fingers and the way he wet the edge of the paper between his lips. The only thing keeping Derek from popping a seriously inappropriate boner was the fact that his sister sitting less than a yard away. He shot a pained look Scott's way and Scott just laughed. 

“Sorry dude, I suck at rolling.” he said with a shrug.

“What, my joints aren't good enough for you, Derek?” Stiles asked, holding up a perfect rolled joint and passing it to Scott to light up before starting in on a second one.

“I don't think that's the problem,” Isaac said, and before anyone could shut him up, “I think it's the fact that you roll joints like a porn star or something.” 

Stiles immediately turned beet red and looked down at the partially rolled join in his hand, suddenly self-conscious.

“Chill, Stiles. Isaac's just fucking with you,” Scott said, laughing.

“Not really,” Cora said. Stiles just rolled his eyes and finished rolling the joint, face still flushed red. 

“I refuse to apologize for my natural sex appeal and animal magnetism,” Stiles said, determined not to look up from the task at hand. Even Derek had to laugh a little at that. 

Soon enough, the four of them were passing the two joints around and talking and laughing over the thump of the bass. After a while, a couple people made their way upstairs, out of curiosity, and settled on the floor around the bed, as more joints were rolled and passed around. By the time Lydia came up and told Derek to stop being a stoner and to come socialize, he was well and truly high and had collapsed on the bed with his head in Stiles's lap. 

Stiles had been idly trailing his fingers through Derek's hair as he talked, making Derek endlessly grateful for his choice to skip the hair product (and for the fact that the others had gotten tired of embarrassing him by that point). Derek looked up at Lydia and glared at her for even suggesting he move out of his current position. She just crossed her arms and glared right back until Derek gave in. It was his idea to throw the party, after all. 

Derek grumbled as he sat up, pulling away from Stiles's soothing fingers, “Alright, alright. I'm up, I'm socializing.” 

“Dude!” Stiles suddenly shouted, jumping up after Derek. Scott was already laughing and Derek didn't understand, until he realized he was reacting to the song the DJ had just put on. 

“What?” Derek asked. He didn't recognize the song right away, but apparently everyone else did.

“Come on, I'm teaching you how to Dougie,” Stiles said, dragging him down the spiral staircase. 

“Oh dude, I have to see this,” Scott said, cackling from behind them. Derek had a very bad feeling about this, but it was hard to argue with Stiles when his head was swimming, his body was buzzing, and Stiles was gripping his hand tight, as he led the way to the makeshift dance floor that had formed in the middle of his loft. 

“You can dance, right?” Stiles asked. Derek froze, kind of unsure how to answer. Back when he was a teenager, before the fire, he'd begged his mom to let him sign up for hip-hop dance classes, convinced he would be the next Usher or something. He actually wasn't bad either, and he'd kind of loved it, but he hadn't even thought about dancing since the fire. 

“Umm...” Derek said, but Stiles didn't seem to be too invested in his answer. He was already swaying to the beat and pulling Derek right along with him until they found a spot in the center of the floor. Derek resisted the urge to run and instead focused on Stiles and the way his body was moving.

“Just do what I do, ok?” Stiles said, leaning in to be heard over the thumping of the music. Derek nodded and watched as Stiles started moving to the beat. The dance wasn't hard to pick up, but Derek was a little surprised at how good Stiles looked on the dance floor. How the hell could someone so clumsy look so confident on the dance floor? It seemed incongruous, but that was probably part of the reason Derek found it so attractive. 

Derek started copying Stiles, taking a few cues from some other people that had joined in and pretty soon had picked up the dance. Stiles was cackling like a mad man, clearly triumphant that he'd gotten Derek to dance with him. Cora was laughing so hard she looked like she might break a rib, but Scott looked surprised and impressed so Derek figured he must not look like that big of an asshole. 

As one song turned into the next, Derek and Stiles stayed out on the dance floor. As Derek got more comfortable, he found himself getting closer and closer to Stiles, until the two were shamelessly grinding against each other. He didn't give a shit who was watching, whether Scott was pretending to puke or whether Cora was busy taking shots with her cellphone for future blackmail purposes (and they both were), all he cared about was the pound of the bass and the intoxicating feeling of Stiles's over-heated body pressed up against his in all the right places.

The party had definitely been the way to go. 

The next song hit with something a little slower and Derek found himself suddenly inches away from Stiles's beaming face and it seemed like second nature to put a hand on his chin and pull him in for a kiss. He was pretty sure a few people actually cheered for them and Derek had never felt more like a character in a movie in his life, but at least this time he was starring in _Can't Hardly Wait_ or _She's All That_ rather than _The Road_ or _Othello_. 

Stiles pulled away with a slightly embarrassed roll of his eyes and began to drag Derek off the floor and presumably off to somewhere more private. Derek was fully on-board with that plan, despite the fact that his loft didn't actually get particularly “private”. Going up the spiral stairs to his room would at least keep them out of sight and the loud music would do the rest. Derek felt a faint niggling in the back of his mind that reminded him of how exposed and unprotected they would be, but as he'd done with many similar thoughts in the past couple of days, he simply brushed it away. 

Derek ignored the new round of cheers, as the crowd realized where they were going off to, but Stiles made sure to throw up his middle finger with a cheerful smile. Once they were far enough in Derek's room to be out of sight, Stiles collapsed down on the edge of the bed and covered his red face with his hands. 

“Our friends are assholes,” he said. Derek just laughed in agreement and stepped closer. Stiles leaned back on his elbows and looked up at Derek with a smile that had gone from bashful to salacious in the time took him to realize that they were alone and in the presence of a bed. If that wasn’t an invitation, then Derek didn’t know what was. It seemed rude to decline. Derek had manners, after all. 

Derek walked in front of Stiles and leaned down with one knee on the bed, just to Stiles’s left. He braced his hands against Stiles's shoulders and leaned in close enough to brush his cheek against Stiles’s neck.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Derek said, letting his lips trail against Stiles’s skin. Stiles let out a low moan that nearly disappeared in the din of the party.

“Probably smell like booze and weed and sweat,” Stiles mumbled, his voice low and breathy. Derek snorted out a laugh and ignored Stiles’s rebuttal in favor of sucking a kiss into his neck Derek pondered whether or not Stiles would mind if he gave him a hickey, when he was interrupted by Stiles dropping back, taking the weight from his elbows.

“Sorry!” Stiles yelped as they collapsed together on the bed. Derek just pressed another kiss against Stiles's laughing mouth and eased down onto his lap, adjusting to the new position. He continued kissing Stiles’s neck, shamelessly unconcerned that he was stretching the hell out the collar of Stiles's tee-shirt as he tried to get to more skin. 

“You should take this off,” Derek said, his words muffled against Stiles’s skin and reinforced by the way his hand was sliding up under the shirt in question. 

“Mm, yeah. Definitely. Just... gotta... let me up,” Stiles agreed, trying fruitlessly to wriggle out from under Derek enough to get his shirt off. Derek finally stopped kissing Stiles long enough to sit up, but apparently that only pressed the weight of his ass down on Stiles's lap a little more firmly. Stiles moaned and grabbed Derek by his belt loops in an attempt to guide the rough grind against his denim clad lap. 

“S'that good?” Derek asked, rocking down on Stiles’s lap. Stiles groaned and dropped his head back against the bed, shirt forgotten. Derek started sliding Stiles’s tee shirt up his chest, dragging his thumbs across the smooth warm skin. When he got the shirt up as far as it would go, Stiles finally began to cooperate again and lifted his arms. 

“Mm, much better,” Derek said, practically purring as he explored Stiles’s body with his hands. Stiles, for his part, had been struck mute, his mouth hanging open as he watched the path of Derek's hand gliding toward his nipple.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Derek?” He finally managed to croak out. Derek chuckled and looked down at Stiles with a grin. 

“Stop being an idiot. I've always wanted you,” Derek said, his thumb lazily rubbing Stiles’s bottom lip, which seemed to be the sole focus of his world at that moment and the place he directed his words. 

“Since when?” Stiles asked, suddenly more alert than he'd been the whole night. He pushed Derek's hand away from his lip and raised an eyebrow, obviously intent on getting a serious answer. Derek tried not to pout and failed miserably. 

“Since…. For a while, I guess. Maybe since the pool? With the kanima? No, I think it was before that...” Derek said, trying to think back to pinpoint the first moment he realized Stiles had carved out a home in his thoughts and settled there. 

“But you’re not hiding it now,” Stiles said, blankly. 

“I’m tired of hiding it.” Derek said, grinning lazily and rolling his hips again, just to watch Stiles’s eyes roll back in his head for a second. 

“Wh-why?” Stiles asked. Derek wanted to complain about all the questions, but he was willing to be patient, especially since Stiles had rested his hands on Derek’s hips. His hands were big and warm and Derek was pretty sure he could get addicted to the way they gripped tighter when he rocked his body against Stiles’s. Shit, he’d forgotten the question.

“I forgot the question,” Derek said, out loud for Stiles's benefit. 

“Me too,” Stiles said, his hands slowly sliding back to cup Derek's ass. Derek decided that was as good a place as any to shut Stiles up. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Stiles’s and sure enough that strong grip on his ass tightened just a little. He caught Stiles's plush and kiss-bitten lower lip between his own and flicked his tongue across it, just to get the taste of it. Suddenly Stiles’s hands had moved from Derek’s ass to his head. Long fingers gripped Derek’s hair and pulled him in close as Stiles’s tongue surged forward into Derek’s mouth. 

Derek felt a little rush just below his sternum. He realized that must have been what people were talking about when they said they had butterflies in their stomachs. Stiles kissing him did that. Derek didn't know how to describe it, other than to say Stiles kissed like he _meant_ it, and Derek really fucking hoped he did. 

Derek rolled his hips against Stiles in a slow lazy rhythm as they kissed until he realized could feel something pressing back; thick and hard even through two pairs of jeans. He groaned and pulled away from the kiss, standing up just quick enough that he almost stumbled. 

“What-?” 

“Just gotta get these stupid jeans off,” Derek said, cutting Stiles off mid-protest. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked his way out of them, leaving him standing there in his briefs. He paused for a minute and decided that he may as well get rid of the shirt too since he’d stripped Stiles of his. 

“Those… those are really fucking hot.” Stiles said, openly staring at Derek’s crotch. Derek preened and couldn’t resist doing a turn to give Stiles a view of the backside, not even remotely concerned with the the slim possibility of someone downstairs being able to see him. After all, what was the point of having sexy underwear if you couldn’t show them off? 

Derek had always been kind of picky when it came to underwear, but he’d never shown them to anyone before. He was just now beginning to realize what a huge waste that was, as he took in Stiles’s appreciative gaze. These particular ones had navy and orange stripes, rode low on his hips, and hugged his ass like nobody’s business. 

“I swear to god, it's fucking Christmas,” Stiles practically growled, suddenly lunging toward Derek to drag him back down to the bed. Stiles didn’t hesitate letting his hands do the taking this time. He slid them up Derek’s back as he leaned in to kiss and bite at Derek’s chest and then slid them back down again to cup Derek’s ass through his underwear. 

Derek groaned and went back to grinding in Stiles’s lap, a lot happier now that he could feel the hard press of Stiles’s cock against him a little better. His skin felt flushed and hot, and his thoughts seemed heated to match. He was suddenly eager to get Stiles's cock out and see if it was really as big as it felt, but he kind of liked the anticipation. More than that, he liked the way Stiles’s hands were slipping down the back of his underwear to squeeze his ass. He didn’t want to pull his eyes away from Stiles’s blissed-out face, but he had to kiss him, taste him.

“Tell me what you want,” Stiles said, his voice as demanding as his hands. 

“I wanna ride you so fucking bad.” Derek practically moaned as he took a breath from kissing a trail of marks across Stiles’s collarbone. The way Stiles was massaging his ass and thrusting his hips up to meet every roll of Derek’s hips was driving him crazy.

“Jesus, yes. You’re fucking killing me, Derek,” Stiles said before pulling Derek in to kiss him in that same hungry way that made the butterflies in Derek’s stomach do somersaults. He could not fathom why he hadn’t done this sooner. Kissing Stiles was amazing; maybe the best thing ever. He figured he’d decide what the best thing ever was _after_ he had Stiles’s dick in him. Just to be fair. 

Derek got off Stiles’s lap and dropped to the floor, kneeling between the vee of Stiles’s legs. He went to unbutton Stiles’s jeans and pull them off, grinning to himself at the way Stiles couldn’t keep his hands to himself even then. He was running his hands down Derek’s forearms, through his hair, and anywhere else he could reach. Derek understood the compulsion as he was having a hard time keeping his mouth and tongue from traveling down Stiles’s treasure trail. He decided it was best to follow Stiles's lead and give in to the temptation. 

Derek kissed his way down following Stiles’s zipper as he pulled it. Stiles’s cock pushed out through the opening and Derek realized he was going commando. The thought that Stiles’s cock was only a single layer of denim away from him this whole time made him groan. He yanked at Stiles’s jeans and Stiles lifted his hips so that Derek could pull them off. Finally Derek got to see what he was working with. 

It was just as big as Derek had thought, thick and curved upwards just a little (and circumcised, which was kind of interesting to Derek). Derek thought that if a penis could look proud, that’s what Stiles’s penis looked like; almost smug, really. Derek was suddenly reminded that he was definitely still a little high and most likely a little drunk too because he kind of wanted to kiss that smug look right off of Stiles's cock. He had to laugh a little at the strange things his mind came up with, but he was going to give it a try anyway.

“Fuuuuccckkkk…” Stiles groaned as Derek pressed a wet kiss against the tip of his cock. Derek pulled back and saw that the damn thing looked as smug as ever. He supposed that was its default setting, so he gave up on trying to change it, and instead, focused on enjoying the thick, smooth feel of it in his mouth and the salty goodness of Stiles’s precome against his tongue. He may have gotten a little caught-up, actually, because suddenly Stiles was pulling him away.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop,” Stiles panted. Derek couldn’t remember why that was a bad thing for a moment but when he did, he got with the program pretty quickly. 

“Be right back. Don’t. Move.” Derek said, giving Stiles the sternest look he could muster at the moment, considering his amazingly good mood. Stiles threw up his hands in surrender.

“Didn’t plan on it,” Stiles said with a crooked grin that made Derek a little bit weak in the knees. It always did, he'd just never had it directed at him while Stiles had his cock out. It made a wolf of difference. 

Derek walked over to his dresser, awkwardly adjusting his hard cock as he turned. He knew Stiles had seen by the soft chuckle, but he didn't really mind. 

Since Derek had seen fit to live like a monk for the past… fucking forever, he had plenty of lube (because monks masturbate, apparently), but no condoms. Derek turned to Stiles with the pout to end all pouts. How the hell had he prepared for every other situation this party might throw at him, but that one?

“What's wrong?” Stiles asked, obviously confused as to how someone could look so depressed when they were standing there in their underwear with a bottle of lube in hand. 

“I... don't have any condoms,” Derek said, wincing, half convinced that Stiles would decide that was the sign he'd been waiting for to call the whole thing off. Stiles, however, just laughed. 

“Dude, why didn't you just say something? God, you look like someone punched your kitten or something. I'm pretty sure we'll be alright what with me being a virgin and you being a werewolf. I’m cool with the um… bareback situation if you are? Long as you can’t get pregnant, right?” Stiles said with a laugh. Derek raised an eyebrow at him and rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t tell me my lame pregnancy joke is making you want to change your mind?” Stiles asked. Derek answered that question by tossing the lube toward the bed and stepping forward to straddle Stiles again, but Stiles stopped him before he could get down on the bed. 

“Wait, turn around for me,” Stiles said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Derek obliged him and felt Stiles’s hands sliding up the backs of his thighs till his thumbs were brushing against his underwear and slipping under. He then let his hands continue on up Derek’s hips to slowly pull his underwear down past the curve of his ass. 

“Goddamn. Your ass is insane, Derek,” Stiles said reverently. Derek could feel warm breath against his skin as Stiles leaned forward to kiss the small of his back, his hands gripping Derek’s ass and kneading. As Stiles kissed his way down the crack of Derek’s ass, he slowly spread him open more and more. Derek suddenly felt like he needed to be leaning against something because his legs seemed like they might give at any moment. When Stiles finally slipped his tongue out and swiped it over his hole, Derek actually did stumble forward a little. 

Stiles was a man on a mission, though, and he wouldn’t be defeated by something as simple as gravity. He worked Derek’s underwear the rest of the way down, pulled Derek back towards him, and directed him with the forethought of someone who watched far too much porn. 

“Straddle me on your knees, just like before, but face away from me,” Stiles said, and Derek was impressed at his ability to give clear and concise directions in such a wrecked and desperate tone of voice. He did as he was asked, Stiles's hands bracing his hips and keeping him balanced as he settled down on Stiles’s lap again. 

“Now can you lean forward and hold on to my legs?” Derek sunk forward slowly, Stiles still holding him tight by his hips to make sure he didn’t face plant. Apparently Stiles wasn’t going to trust Derek’s werewolf strength and grace at this point, after the stumble earlier. Derek tried not to be irritated, considering how much he liked Stiles’s hands on him. The position had him face down, ass up and within easy reach of Stiles’s mouth and hands. He was able to brace himself against Stiles’s legs well enough that he didn’t feel likely to fall forward any time soon. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s beautiful,” Stiles whispered. He wasted no time spreading Derek open and getting back to the business of rimming him. He licked and pressed his tongue in deep, and the noise of it alone would have been enough to send Derek reeling while the actual feeling was almost too much. 

“Stiles… please,” Derek moaned and Stiles did his best to push in further, fucking Derek with his tongue. Stiles went from tongue fucking him to long slow licks from his perineum back up to his hole, then to little swirls with the tip of his tongue that made Derek’s toes curl. It wasn’t long before Derek had broken down to the point of whimpering. 

“Fuck me, please. Just fuck me already,” Derek pleaded. Stiles pulled back and gave Derek a gentle slap on the ass before pulling him up by his hips. Derek got a little bit of a head rush as he sat back up again, but it passed pretty quickly. 

“Do you still wanna ride me?” Stiles asked, stroking his heavily leaking cock as Derek got off the couch to stand in front of him. Derek nodded and licked his lips, and Stiles made grabby hands at him until he was kneeling over Stiles’s lap again, this time facing the right way. Derek grabbed the lube from where he’d tossed it on the bed earlier and gave it to Stiles.

“You sure you don't want me to...?” Stiles drifted off, finally looking as insecure as you would expect from someone with his level of experience. 

“No. Please? I mean, unless you'd rather...” 

“NO! I mean, this is good. Really good,” Stiles reassured him, pulling him in to kiss his jaw, “So good.” 

Derek huffed out a laugh, but it caught in his throat as he heard the cap of the lube bottle open. A little rush of adrenaline went through him as he watched Stiles slick up his fingers. Stiles looked up at him and Derek nodded his reassurance. Stiles slowly swiped his slick fingers down Derek's crack, finding his way to the tight hole entirely by feel. 

Derek couldn't hold back the shiver that worked its way down his spine or the way he suddenly clutched Stiles a little tighter, like a lifeline. 

“Okay?” Stiles asked. Derek didn't trust his voice so he just nodded. Stiles pressed the pad of his finger against Derek's hole, slowly spreading lube around his entrance.

“Just relax, I got you,” Stiles whispered soothingly into Derek's ear. 

“How are you so good at this?” Derek asked, a little embarrassed that he was the one needing reassurance.

“I may have a bit of practice with this part... on myself, I mean,” Stiles said. Derek was overcome with the mental image that inspired for a moment.

“Maybe next time, you could show me?” Derek asked, his voice almost cracking as Stiles's finger slipped in to the first joint.

“Definitely. Anything,” Stiles said and Derek grinned at how breathless he sounded. He was still astounded that Stiles actually wanted him. He couldn't quite believe that all the teasing and awkward flirtation might have actually been hinting at something bigger, just underneath the surface. At least he really hoped that was the case and that he hadn't let his excitement coerce him into moving too quickly when there was nothing but physical attraction between them. 

“Do you... I know this isn't the best time to bring this up... Oh fuck, never mind,” Derek said, suddenly more embarrassed than he'd been in a long time.

“What? Talk to me,” Stiles insisted, turning Derek's face towards his with the hand that wasn't already busy fingering him open. Derek mentally chastised himself for having the sudden urge to bring up the feelings thing when Stiles was already finger deep in him.

“I'm really stupid, but I just wanted to know, is this just a sex thing? Or do you...?” Derek asked, awkwardly.

“Oh my god, seriously?” Stiles asked, suddenly laughing. 

“I told you it was stupid. Sorry,” Derek mumbled, resisting the urge to just cut and run.

“No! Oh man, I'm sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I just… Derek! I mean, how could you not know? I'm fucking crazy about you, dude.” Derek grinned and lunged for Stiles's mouth, completely unable to describe the feeling that Stiles's words gave him, with anything other than a kiss. 

At some point during the kiss, Stiles finally started moving his finger again, pushing in deeper and letting Derek rock back into it as his own pace. By the time it shifted from feeling a little awkward and strange to feeling really incredibly amazingly good, Derek had given up on kissing and had resorted to leaning against Stiles's shoulder and moaning shamelessly. 

“There you go. Fuck Derek, so gorgeous,” Stiles said, whispering a litany of praise into Derek's ear as he slowly worked him open. Derek felt like his chest would expand and explode. He almost wanted to beg Stiles to stop, to just stop talking, but he couldn't. He didn't dare. 

“Please, just... I want you now,” Derek practically growled. He was pretty sure he could feel the shudder of relief go through Stiles's body and realized that he must have been waiting for Derek's word, afraid of moving too fast. 

Stiles gently pulled his fingers out, leaving Derek empty and aching for more as he searched for the lube. Somehow the bottle had shifted under a pillow and Stiles snatched it up with a triumphant little shout that had Derek snorting out a laugh. The music from the party was still blasting loud enough that Derek was fairly certain the other werewolves couldn't hear them, but someone might have caught that part if they'd been paying attention.

“Do you mind if I lay down on my back?” Derek asked as Stiles started slicking up his cock. As much as Derek had enjoyed riding Stiles's fingers, he kind of liked the thought of Stiles on top of him, holding his legs and taking control. Stiles nodded vigorously and Derek made himself comfortable on the bed, propping his ass up with a pillow in a brilliant stroke of forethought.

Stiles took a minute to just look at Derek before leaning in to kiss him, sweeter and gentler than he ever had up to that point. Derek had to remember to breathe for a moment, fingers entangled in the careless mess of Stiles's hair. Stiles looked like he wanted to double check again and make sure Derek was still on board, but Derek cut the question off in advance by wrapping his legs around Stiles's waist and pulling him in.

“Geez, pushy much?” Stiles asked with a laugh. Derek just rolled his eyes. He was a little relieved to have Stiles tease him again. It was good to be back on familiar territory after they'd become so intimate in such a short amount of time. Stiles tested Derek with his fingers, making sure he was still ready. Derek resisted the urge to complain and was rewarded by Stiles positioning himself at Derek's entrance and slowing easing himself in. 

Even with all the prep Stiles had done, Derek still had to remind himself to relax and breathe rather than clenching up and resisting. The whole while, Stiles showered him with reassuring touches and words and Derek was yet again thrown by the sense that somewhere deep inside he was in a complete panic because when was the last time someone had touched him like that? Before his mind even let him pinpoint it, the feeling was gone, almost as quick as it had come. 

Stiles began to slowly fuck Derek as his body acclimated and Derek gave himself up to the feeling. He didn't monitor the noises coming out of his mouth and Stiles just encouraged him, asking him how it felt and telling him that he wanted to hear it. Derek wasn't surprised by how vocal Stiles was, but he was kind of surprised by how much he liked it and how vocal he was in return. He was certain he'd always been pretty quiet before, even when he was alone. 

“Not gonna last, Derek. Come on, let me feel you come,” Stiles begged, rocking in and out of Derek with increased fervor. Derek guided Stiles's hands over his cock, showing him just how he liked it. Stiles let go just long enough to pull Derek's in a bit closer by his hips, tilting his ass up a little more and pushing his knees back farther. Whatever the change in position had done, it was good. It didn't take much after that to have Derek spilling over Stiles's fist. 

“Fuck, Derek!” Stiles cursed. He grabbed Derek and crushed their mouths together in a messy kiss as he fucked him, “Where do you want me to-?” 

“Just stay in, inside me,” Derek panted and Stiles let out something really damn close to a growl as he pounded into Derek harder before finally clutching him tightly, his whole body jerking as he let his orgasm crash over him. 

For a moment, they just lay there entangled together. Derek had hooked his ankles around Stiles's knees and hadn't let go, gently stroking away the sweat beads from Stiles's temples as they caught their breath (Derek much sooner than Stiles, but there was no accounting for werewolf stamina). 

“Can we just stay here?” Stiles mumbled, mouth lazily pressed into Derek's shoulder. 

“We should probably clean ourselves up and check on the party,” Derek said, regretfully. Stiles just groaned. Neither of them were really looking forward to the walk of shame downstairs, especially since they'd have to cross the party to get to the bathroom and clean up properly. Derek hadn't really thought of that when he'd insisted Stiles come inside him, but he'd been a bit caught up in the moment. 

“Come on, let's get it over with,” Derek said, nudging Stiles off of him. Stiles finally got up and stretched a little as Derek dug through his laundry for a towel they could use to wipe up a little. Even then, he knew there was no hiding what they'd been up to; certainly not from the other werewolves. Derek took a minute to pity his sister before pulling on his jeans and tee shirt. 

“Getting dressed sucks,” Stiles pouted as he attempted to pull his shirt on both inside out and backwards.

“That's only because you apparently suck at it,” Derek said, pulling on the exposed tag of Stiles's tee shirt with a laugh. Stiles grumbled and then pulled his shirt off to flip it the right way out. 

The two of them went, surprisingly, largely unnoticed as they crept down the spiral staircase. Apparently more time and more booze had led to an upsurge in the amount of people on the dance floor. Derek tried to pinpoint the rest of the pack and found everyone except Lydia and Cora, but he had the sneaking suspicion that wherever they were, they were together. 

Derek pulled Stiles by the hand toward the general direction of the bathroom. The place was a mess, but other than that, the party seemed to be mostly under control and Derek was determined to sneak in a quick shared shower before joining the din again. Before they could escape unnoticed, Derek managed to collide with Phoenix only a few feet away from the bathroom door. 

“Hey! Oh... HEY!” Phoenix said, clearly realizing just what the two of them had been up to, as she gave them a once over. Derek was pretty sure she didn't need to use magic to come to that realization. 

“Hey! Been enjoying the party?” Stiles asked.

“Oh yeah! I see you've been enjoying my gift!” Phoenix said, directing the last half of her sentence to Derek, in particular.

“Oh yeah, that stuff was pretty good. You should give us the recipe.” Derek said, assuming she was referring to the magical werewolf booze she'd supplied them with.

“Oh sure, but I was talking about your relaxed new state of mind!” Phoenix said, waggling her eyebrows a little. Derek just tilted his head in confusion.

“You know, the spell?” Phoenix asked, casually bobbing her head along with the music.

“What the hell is she talking about, Derek?” Stiles asked, immediately concerned and on edge. Derek's heart was thudding in his chest. 

“I have no idea,” Derek said, but even as he said it things began to click in place.

“What? How could you not realize... Dude, I did a spell on you. At the shop? When you got all aggro on me?” Phoenix explained, confirming Derek's fears. 

“You... you cast a spell on me. This... this was a spell...” Derek said. He suddenly needed to sit down very badly. 

“Woah, relax. I didn't think you'd mind. I mean, things have been better for you right? Look how much fun you've been having!” 

“Undo it, you crazy bitch!” Stiles suddenly snapped, pressing Phoenix up against a wall.

“Back off, dude. I'll be glad to undo it. All you had to do was ask,” Phoenix said, pushing Stiles away.

“He didn't ask for the spell in the first place,” Stiles growled. 

“Do you want me to undo it, Derek?” Phoenix asked, completely ignoring Stiles at that point.

“Of fucking course he does! Jesus, just do it!” Stiles said, but he stopped when he saw the look on Derek's face. 

“I don't... I don't know.” 

“Derek!” Stiles said, looking shocked. Derek was still processing the fact that someone had managed to affect his personality like that, and he hadn't even noticed. Now, he was supposed to decide if he wanted to go back, when the last couple days had been the happiest and most relaxed he'd had since the fire.

Derek needed to clear his head. He headed up the roof, hoping Stiles wouldn't follow him, but he should have known better. Derek could hear Stiles's heartbeat just a few steps behind, fast, but steady. Derek turned on Stiles the moment he heard his feet hit the gravel-strewn roof. 

“What, you really want me to go back to the way I was? You think I wouldn't rather be like this? God, everything's just... it's been so _easy_.” Derek said. He felt that familiar panicked scrabbling at the very back of his mind, but this time he could pinpoint it for what it was. This time he knew it to be the part of him that Phoenix had shut away from the rest of his mind and he really didn't know if he wanted that part back. 

“Derek, I can't... I wanted you; all of you. How can I be happy knowing that the only reason you're with me is because someone put a spell on you?” Stiles said and Derek could feel the pain behind his words. He wanted to argue and tell Stiles that they would have gotten together either way, but it would be a lie. He would have still wanted Stiles, but he likely never would have let himself act on it. Not after... everything. No, he would have kept it locked down like he always had. 

“Jesus. Please? I promise you, if you want help I'm here. Even if you... even if you don't want me the way you do now. Just don't let someone change your whole personality with a fucking spell,” Stiles pleaded.

“It wasn't everything. I mean, you have to understand that, okay? I'm still me!” Derek insisted, but he knew Stiles wasn't buying it.

“God, we all knew! I knew something was up with you, and I just ignored it. I just- I wanted you to be happy, but I also... I liked the way you acted around me. God, I just can't be that fucking selfish, okay? I want to tell you to leave things the way they are, but it would be wrong. It would be really fucking wrong and... I loved you before, ok? When you were a grouchy pain in my ass, I still loved you. So just... change back, even if you don't want anything to do with me anymore. I want the old Derek back, ok?” Stiles said and Derek swallowed past the lump in his throat. It was fitting that they were having this conversation on the roof because nothing he'd ever done made him feel so much like jumping in his life.

Derek took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I love you too, okay? I don't care what happens after this, even if I never- I might not be able to say it again, but I do. Just promise you'll remember that, okay?” Derek begged before pulling Stiles in for what might be the last kiss they shared. He wanted so desperately to believe it wouldn't matter; that even if he changed back to the way he was he could still be with Stiles, but he just couldn't convince himself. 

Derek turned away from Stiles and left him there on the roof. This time the familiar sound of his footsteps didn't follow behind. Derek found Phoenix waiting for him just inside the loft.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know-” Phoenix started to say as Derek walked up to her, but he cut her off. 

“Just do it. Just fix it,” Derek said, afraid he might lose his nerve.

“Alright man, just... just do you,” Phoenix said. The words were as casual and seemingly meaningless as when she'd done the spell in the first place, but this time Derek felt more than just a strange breeze. He felt it like a knife to the gut as a disorienting fog of panic and anger washed over him. 

“Derek?” Phoenix asked as Derek backed up against the wall. Derek didn't respond, though. All he wanted was to escape, but his loft was full of strangers. It didn't even smell like his anymore. _He_ didn't even smell like himself anymore. He smelled like Stiles. 

“Derek?” someone asked again, but this time it felt like it was coming from very far away. Derek didn't understand why he couldn't breathe. Maybe something had gone wrong with the spell. 

“Derek come on, let's go.” Derek suddenly realized it was Scott talking to him, his eyes flashing red as he put a hand on the back of Derek's neck. Derek suddenly realized he'd been well on his way to wolfing out in the middle of the party. He took control of himself long enough to follow Scott out of the loft. Isaac cleared a path to the elevator, just in case Derek lost control again and wolfed out. 

Derek felt his stomach churn, shame washing over him for so many reasons. God, how did he not realize he'd been under a spell? He wondered to himself if Stiles was still on the roof or if he'd come to see what had happened and then immediately realized he couldn't face him. He didn't want to see the disappointment on his face when he realized that they were stuck with old damaged Derek in place of fun, relaxed Derek. 

Scott directed Derek to his own car and let him collapse back against it. Derek fought back the shame at having needed his Alpha to step in for him. After all, he'd been an Alpha first. Scott wasn't pushing him, though. Instead he stood back and waited for Derek to regain control. 

“What happened, Derek?” Scott finally asked when Derek seemed calm enough to approach. Derek took a breath and began to explain Phoenix's spell. He recognized the look on Scott's face because it was the same look Stiles had gotten when heard. The “I should have known” look. 

“I guess you were right about that witch in the first place,” Scott said, but Derek just shook his head, surprisingly unsatisfied with hearing that he was right.

“No, I think she honestly thought she was doing me a favor. I don't think she's a bad person, she just... makes really bad choices,” Derek said.

“Kinda reminds me of someone else I know,” Scott said, giving Derek a significant look and, yeah, Derek kind of deserved that. Images of Paige, Kate, and Jennifer-or Julia- all flashed through his head.

“Well, you know what they say, the road to hell-”

“Paved with good intentions,” Scott finished, a bit bitterly, and Derek realized that Scott may have actually been talking about himself rather than Derek. He thought back to the fiasco with Gerard Argent and was once again hit with the realization that he and Scott had a lot more in common than he often realized. 

“So what are you going to do about Stiles?” Scott asked, and Derek thought carefully before answering.

“I don't know. I wasn't ready for this, but I don't want to hurt him either. I...” 

“You love him,” Scott finished. Derek nodded minutely. That much was still clear as day in his mind, but now he was also burdened with the knowledge that everything he loved either died or tried to kill him. Some dark and fucked up part of him thought that the best he could do at that point was just hope that Stiles decided to kill him before someone or something decided to kill Stiles. 

“Don't give up on him, man. Maybe... maybe you don't need a spell to be happy if you just let yourself.” Scott said, stepping forward to pat Derek on the shoulder before turning back toward the loft, “You coming back in?” 

“No. Not yet. I think I need to clear my head a little before....” Derek trailed off. Scott just nodded and headed inside.

“I will be back though,” Derek added, hoping that Scott would understand. He wasn't giving up. Not yet.

“I know,” Scott called without turning back. 

Derek didn't bother getting in his car. He just hit the back alleys and ran and wasn't even remotely surprised when his feet carried him to his old home without hesitation. 

Derek hadn't been back to the old house since he'd helped Scott with his tattoo, but he'd heard from Sheriff Stilinski when the city finally tore it down. Cora had gone back to see what the place looked like after, but Derek couldn't. Whatever Cora had seen, she didn't bother sharing it with him. Now Derek understood why.

In place of the moldering ruins of his childhood home, there was nothing but a pit in the ground. A giant scab in the earth where there once was a foundation. Even when it was a tower of crumbling ash, the house had always seemed so constant and permanent to Derek. Everything else could disappear, but that house would always stand. 

All it had taken was a few days and a handful of city workers with backhoes and excavators to tear it all down.

Derek remembered a quote he'd heard once that said, “There is nothing permanent except change.” Now he was staring at the proof of it. Maybe, Derek thought, it was time for him to change too. 

Derek turned his back on his old home and headed back to his new one to chase out the hordes of drunk teenagers that he'd let infest it. He only hoped Stiles had stuck around. He knew it was stupid to expect Stiles to wait for him, but damn if a little optimism hadn't stuck around after the spell had been lifted.

By the time Derek made it back to the loft, the place had already started to clear out with a little help from Scott, Isaac, Lydia and Cora (the latter two had apparently shown up while he was out and were now wearing different clothes). 

 

“Everyone, out!” Derek boomed, his voice echoing throughout the loft. That seemed to do it for the stragglers. A few people tried to bump Derek's fist as they crowded past him toward the exit, but Derek resisted the urge to snarl and kept his arms folded across his chest. 

The pack were the last to leave, Stiles following along behind Scott and doing his best to avoid making eye contact as he walked past. Derek caught him by the sleeve.

“Not you,” he said. Scott gave Derek a look that conveyed just about all the over-protective best friend threats he could fit in one glance. Derek just gave him an exasperated sigh, but Scott seemed to understand and herded the rest of the pack out into the elevator. 

For a moment after the loft had finally emptied, they were left with nothing except the quiet between them, but Derek wasn't surprised to find he could still rely on Stiles to break the silence. 

“So... I guess you're probably pretty pissed about the party,” Stiles said, jaw clenched as he continued to do his level best to avoid Derek's eyes. 

“Not really,” Derek let the surprise register on Stiles's face before continuing, “Pretty pissed that you got me to dance in front of people though,” Derek said, only half concealing his grin as Stiles's eyes finally snapped to his.

“Yeah? Are you saying you would have danced with me in private?” Stiles said, his voice carrying a bravado that his heartbeat belied.

“I could be coerced.” Derek said with a flippant shrug.

“Could be? As in, future tense?” Stiles asked carefully. Derek nodded, and with a speed that was downright impressive for a human, Stiles was on him, kissing him with an urgency that Derek shared because, oh god, they could still do this. They could still have this, even as Derek fought back the panicked inner-voice telling him it could still all go to hell. Derek managed to pry Stiles away long enough to catch his breath and speak.

“You have to know, I'm not... It won't be easy.” 

“Oh, my god. When has anything with you ever been easy? Easy is boring!” Stiles said, hands gesturing erratically as he spoke.

“I mean it. I'm fucking terrified of you, honestly,”-Stiles snorted out a laugh, but Derek continued- “Seriously. I don't know if I'll always be what you want, but I'm always going to want you. I'm always going to think that everything you cook is the best thing I've ever tasted, even if I don't always remember to tell you, and I'm always going to think you're funny, even if I try not to laugh. I'm not really _good_ at this, but... I still think _we_ could be good.” 

Stiles's face did something between smiling at Derek's heartfelt sentiments and cringing at how unforgivably sappy he was being before he finally spoke.

“I'm a fucked up asshole too, dude, but if you can deal with my erratic moods and rants and my utter inability to accept even your most well-meaning attempts at telling me what to do, then I'll try my best to deal with your crazy too, okay?” Stiles said, punctuating his speech with a gentle kiss. 

Derek just nodded into the kiss as the voice in his head said (a little less bitterly and a little more affectionately), _”Oh, he's definitely going to kill you.”_

[](http://s35.photobucket.com/user/throwme2thedogs/media/Vibe-Divider_zps75ba8d94.png.html)  


**Epilogue**

Derek drove toward the Beacon Hills Preserve in an unfamiliar truck. Stiles sat in the passenger seat with his legs folded into some heinously uncomfortable looking position as he hummed along to the Usher song playing through the CD player. Ever since Derek had started opening up about his tastes in music Stiles had taken great delight in making him a CD of 90's and early thousands R&B and hip hop. 

Apparently Derek's secret love of slow jams was a great source of amusement for Stiles. Derek didn't mind it, mostly because it meant a break from Mumford and Sons and The Lumineers. If Derek never heard another folksy hipster rock ballad, it would be too soon. 

“I can sense you thinking negative things about me, you know,” Stiles said, glaring at Derek from the passenger seat. 

“No, I'm just not very good at schooling my features,” Derek replied flippantly. Stiles scoffed.

“You're not denying it!” 

“I'm not confirming it either,” Derek said, turning to flash a quick smile Stiles's way because he'd learned very quickly that his most charming smile did more to piss Stiles off than it ever did to get him out of trouble (and Derek had a weakness for irritating Stiles, it was apparently how he showed love). Sure enough, Stiles just glared at him and rolled his eyes. 

“You know we have a whole pack full of perfectly good wolf-power to help us with this,” Stiles said, gesturing to the load they were carrying in the back of the borrowed pick up.

“I know, but I want _you_ to help me,” Derek said. Stiles didn't argue. He'd never been serious about his complaint in the first place.

They pulled up to the site of Derek's old house and Derek backed the truck up as close as he could to the wide circle of fresh dirt that filled in the former foundation of his house. The fill dirt was still too soft to drive on, but Derek wasn't going to complain since that same softness would make their task all the easier. 

They jumped out of the truck and Derek tossed Stiles a pair of work gloves, laughing as Stiles fumbled the catch and tried to play it off smooth. They each grabbed a shovel and got to work digging a deep hole, right in the center of the new fill-dirt. 

Derek was surprised at how well Stiles managed to keep up with him, but he blamed that on his own propensity to be distracted by the hypnotic flex of the muscles in Stiles's hands and arms as he dug. Between the two of them, it wasn't long before they had an appropriately sized square hole ready. 

Stiles went to the borrowed pick up and opened the back hatch to let Derek pull out the birch tree they'd been carrying. Stiles had helped him decide on the birch tree based on its Celtic symbolism. Apparently it symbolized growth, renewal, and adaptability, but also stability. Derek had agreed that it was pretty damn appropriate, all things considered. Once they knew what they were looking for, they actually managed to find a species that already grew in the preserve. 

Derek centered the tree in the hole and held it steady as Stiles filled the dirt in around the roots. Once the hole was filled in, they started hauling out the heavy buckets of water they'd hauled over to initially water the tree. It would have been a lot easier if they'd had a hose, but they would manage. The last step was to stake the tree in place, at least for a year or so. 

They stepped back and admired their work and Derek felt at peace with the loss of his home in a way he hadn't since the fire. He remembered the pain he'd felt at seeing the gaping hole that stood in the place of his old home and he'd known he had to do something about it or it would continue to gnaw at him. Now there was something growing and living there again. 

“It looks kinda lonely,” Stiles pointed out.

“Give it time. Other things will start to grow here now,” Derek said.

“It's a good start,” Stiles said and Derek couldn't fight the grin that came to his lips. He didn't know why, but he had the strangest feeling they weren't talking about the tree anymore. 

Derek kissed Stiles's smiling, dirt-smudged face and went to climb back in the pickup. 

“Come on. I borrowed Rock Band from Danny. I call dibs on singing,” Derek called from the driver's seat.

“You're kidding,” Stiles deadpanned. Derek just laughed and cranked up his slow jam mix CD as they headed back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to Cybel for the rad art :) and a big thanks to the folks over at the Teen Wolf Big Bang community! Another big thanks to anyone that read and enjoyed this self-indulgent little Sterek adventure lol.
> 
> If you'd like to check out my Tumblr, I'm reppin' Teen Wolf and SPN right over [here](http://cultofcastiel.tumblr.com/).


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